five times gary almost said three little words (and one time he did)
by garyprestons
Summary: Five times he almost said it, but it's not always so easy, especially when it comes to Miranda... Takes place pre-series, throughout Series 3, and post-series. References to Fireworks, one of my other pieces, in this too.


_we'll see each other again, won't we?_

The first time Gary thinks he might actually be in love with Miranda, it's their graduation party at university. He's had this ridiculously embarrassing crush on her for ages, but they're best friends, so he'd never tell her. Except in three days, he's leaving for Malaysia and she's heading home, and he's not sure when he'll see her again.

It's a big enough problem on its own, but he has another problem on his plate along with it: he's never actually been in love before, so he's not even sure if that's what this strange feeling is. And the truth is, he's not sure he wants to know the answer if that's what this is. Because he's had girlfriends before, casual dates and relationships, but they fizzled out after a few weeks. Being around them never made him nervous or downright terrified like he feels around Miranda when they get too quiet and he wonders what she'd do if he were to lean in and kiss her.

He's opening another bottle of beer when Miranda and Stevie approach him, giggly and obviously already pretty tipsy.

"Can you believe it? We actually managed to graduate!" Stevie announces loudly, and Miranda winces at the volume of her voice. "Great party, Gary! Aw, I'm gonna miss you!" She throws her arms around him and he stumbles backward slightly, almost dropping his beer until Miranda takes it from him for safekeeping. He hugs Stevie back, giving her a bit of a squeeze. He wonders what sort of trouble she'll get herself into after graduation, but he figures as long as Miranda keeps an eye on her, she'll be fine.

Stevie manages to detach herself from him and hurries off to go say goodbye to the rest of their friends, and Gary glances over at Miranda, who hands him back his beer with a grin.

"I promise I won't be quite so enthusiastic," she says, and then holds out her arms expectantly. Grinning back at her, Gary hugs her tightly, pulling her into his embrace and kissing the top of her head like he always does. He supposes it's a bit weird to do with someone who's just a friend, but she's his best friend, and they've always been close. Hell, they've shared a bed, borrowed one another's clothes, and though he'd like to forget this next bit – they've kissed. She doesn't remember, but he does, and it's the main reason why he thinks he might have already fallen in love with her.

"I'll miss you so much," she mumbles against his shoulder, and he inhales a shaky breath. Because he knows if she asked him to stay, he'd cancel his plans in a heartbeat. And if this is his last chance to say it, then…

He draws back slightly, just enough so he can look her in the eye. Her brown eyes are warm but bright with unshed tears, and if she cries, he's a goner.

"Miranda, I…"

She looks at him curiously, and just like that his courage falters and he just wraps his arms around her again.

"I'm going to miss you, too."

_it's always been you_

He only makes it down the hall from her flat before he's turning around and hurrying back the way he came; he doesn't even knock, just pushes open the door before he can lose his nerve. Because amidst all the kissing (and he finally remembers what it's like to kiss her, how her lips feel and how she tastes and smells and everything that had been just a memory for fourteen years) he realises that she'd told him that she loved him, and he hadn't said it back. He's always been more about actions than about trying to find the words to say how he feels, because it's always been confusing between them. It's never been so simple.

In a way, he's jealous of her. That she can say it so easily and honestly and sincerely, and he's been trying for so long to say the same.

She beams happily at him when he bursts back into her flat and runs towards the sofa, vaulting over the back of it and into her arms.

"Forgot to say-" he starts, and he can't finish because he's too busy kissing her again, and maybe if he kisses her for long enough, she'll know how he feels even if the words aren't quite there yet.

_i didn't come back because of you_

When she comes home from Scotland, she doesn't even tell him. He finds out from Stevie, who's leaving to go pick her up from the train station. He's tempted to offer to go himself, but decides it's probably not the best idea. Miranda hasn't returned his calls in the three months she's been gone, or his texts, or his emails, and he knows she's still upset. This is the worst fight they've ever had, and what makes it worse is that it wasn't even a fight. It was a proposal, a spur of the moment decision he'd instantly regretted, but his fear that she'd actually consider marrying Mike had been what kept him down on his knee until she'd run out of the restaurant.

"She's still cross, but she's nowhere near as bad as she was when it first happened," Stevie reports back to him that evening when she hops up onto a bar stool.

The restaurant closes at half past ten, but he's up until well after midnight baking. Tradition has always dictated that whenever he and Miranda had a row and it was his fault, he's made her apology muffins. This, however, requires something a little more impressive. He goes with cupcakes instead, loaded with sugar and frosted in pink. Gets carried away and makes cookies too, and oh, maybe a bit of that banana loaf she loves. When he finally loads everything into a basket he realises he's definitely in over his head when it comes to her. Because everything he's done tonight, he's done in the vain hope that he'll just be able to see her smile again.

He tosses in bed that night, nervous about seeing her again. He falls asleep planning out how he's going to apologise to her when he sees her.

Of course, it doesn't go as planned. It never does when it comes to them. Because when he shows up at her door the next morning before work and she opens it, every single emotion that has been bottled up between them for the last three months seems to be dispelled in a matter of seconds.

"You made me cupcakes?" she immediately asks, and he hefts the basket in his arms; good lord it's actually quite heavy.

"Yeah. Cookies too. And some other stuff. I figured you'd be busy getting settled back in, not enough time to cook."

"When have you ever seen me cook, Gary?" she asks him, brows raised in disbelief.

He's just relieved she hasn't thrown him out yet.

"Fair point. I, uh, just wanted to apologise for everything. I know I messed up, and I understand if you need more time, I'll stay out of your hair for as long as it takes. I just wanted to see you again, and… I'm sorry."

She's quiet for a moment, reaching out for the basket and taking it from him before stepping aside to let him into her flat.

"I've had three months to be angry with you, and believe me I spent most of them doing just that. The truth is, I know I left because of you. I tried to tell myself that I was doing it because I needed to get away, I needed some time to myself. But I was lying to myself. I left because it's still so confusing being around you even after… everything that happened that morning." She actually blushes when she implies the kissing, and she's so adorable and flustered that he wants to kiss her again.

"But I didn't come back because of you. I'm not here because of you. I mean, I missed you, and it's good to see you, but I missed Stevie too, and even mum, though I'll never actually let her hear me admit that. So before you get your hopes up thinking this is like a scene from a film where I'll run into your arms… it's not. Though I've always thought it'd be quite romantic…"

She gets that faraway look in her eyes and as she's clearly losing herself in a daydream, the words sit on the tip of his tongue, those three little words that would set everything right. Or at least, he hopes they would. But maybe all they'd do is make things worse. Maybe she wouldn't believe him. Maybe she'd just think it's a desperate attempt to have her forgive him.

So instead he leaves her with the small mountain of baked goods and tells her it's good to have her home. Leaves before he can do something stupid, because his heart aches being so close to her but with this strange distance now between them. Wonders if he'll ever find the right words to tell her how he feels.

_it all still feels just a bit weird_

It's another month before he works up the nerve to ask her on a date. A proper date. And even though she's reluctant, when she agrees he lets out a breath that he's been holding in since she first returned.

It becomes clear after twenty minutes that the whole dating concept doesn't really even apply to them. They've known one another for so long that they don't really need that middle ground to learn about one another. She's probably the only person who knows everything about him, his hopes and fears and everything in between. So they leave, and as they walk down the pavement they laugh about how this seems to be a pattern with them.

When he takes her hand, she doesn't pull it away, just bumps her shoulder against his with a grin and admits that she's missed him loads.

Back in her flat, all they need is a bottle of wine and one another's company. She tells him all about her travels to Scotland and he listens intently, trying to picture it.

When she kisses him, it's as though she never left, that they're simply picking up where they left off that morning after the train station. If only he'd stayed there in her arms, kissing her for hours like he'd wanted to. If only he'd shirked responsibility like they used to do in university, and been late for the party. If only he'd been brave enough to tell everyone that yes, he had feelings for Miranda and they were going to try and give it a go.

He knows that as hurt as he was that she'd left without even saying goodbye, everything boils down to it being his fault, his cowardice, his fears.

He looks down at her, at her flushed cheeks, bruised lips curved into the happiest smile, and her eyes soft with affection for him.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

_You gave me a second chance. It's one of the things I love about you._

"Absolutely nothing," he replies, and it's the truth.

_that painting really didn't do her justice_

The closest he ever gets to saying it is the first night they sleep together. It's hard not to let himself get carried away amidst the whirlwind of emotion that immediately follows, when she's curled up in his arms, arm flung over his naked chest and her lovely curves and undulations pressed gently against him. His thumb slowly rubs against her hip, and he feels her smile against his skin.

"You're lovely," he says quietly, and she lifts her head up slightly to look at him.

"I'm still seduced, you don't have to say things like that," she yawns softly and snuggles closer to him. He chuckles and smooths his hand over her warm skin, unable to wipe the ridiculously giddy grin off his face. He still can't believe he's in her bed, with her, and that their relationship – yes, it's officially a relationship – has reached this point. Because he's thought about what it would be like to have sex with her ever since he suggested they sleep together. It feels like that was an eternity ago even though it was only a couple of years.

And of course, since it's Miranda, she managed to surprise him yet again. Because it was charged with so much sexual tension from dancing around one another for so long that it was a bit nerve-racking at first. He's used to things being much more casual; this was probably the first time he's been with someone who he actually cares about, who he loves. Once he accepted that things probably weren't going to go exactly as planned, it's sweet and a bit silly and okay, maybe he did almost roll right off the bed during all of the snogging beforehand, but she promised not to tell.

It's perfect in its imperfection. Because it's him and it's her, and nothing between them has ever been normal or ordinary or boring. Falling into bed with her like something in a romance film wouldn't be them at all. Something always goes awry with them, and it's that familiarity that makes it so easy to laugh at it when it does.

He feels her breathing slowly begin to slow and even out. She's falling asleep, fingers gently loosening their hold on his waist as she does.

He kisses the top of her head. "Miranda…"

She stirs against him but doesn't open her eyes. "Hm?"

He swallows the lump in his throat. "I…" He feels the word form, feels his tongue hit the back of his teeth, all he has to do is just push through them.

"I'll be here when you wake up. Promise."

His eyes close in frustration, but she doesn't notice. It might not be those three little words she's waiting so patiently for, but they seem to have a similar effect; she sighs contently and nuzzles her cheek against him, relaxing completely as she falls asleep.

_he's always preferred spontaneous, anyway_

It slips out one afternoon when she stops by the restaurant for lunch. Over a plate of lasagna, she chatters on about her plans for the day while he leans against the bar and listens. She's absolutely radiant, and the way she gets flustered and goes off on one of her tangents never fails to make him laugh and wonder how he got so lucky to find someone as endearingly weird as he is.

"I love you."

Her eyes widen in surprise, and it takes him a second to realise what's just happened. It had come out just as easily as a breath, without thinking, the most natural thing in the entire world. And maybe that's why he's been having so much trouble finding the right time to say them. Because loving Miranda isn't just three little words. It's something he does, all day, every day. Like breathing or seeing or hearing. As soon as he stopped thinking about the why and just knew that he did, the words had come so easily.

She leans across the bar and kisses him, one hand gently gripping the front of his chef's jacket and the other cupping his cheek. It's soft and sweet and when she pulls away he can feel the catch in her breath and her voice cracking slightly with emotion.

"I love you too, you nut," she whispers in his ear, and her smile is so bright and warm he feels it down to his toes.

He has a feeling now that he's said it, he won't be able to stop.


End file.
